The Conversation
by write2like
Summary: The characters of NCIS:LA are the creation of Shane Brennan, and I'm grateful to Shane and CBS for allowing writers to use them to create original stories.
1. Chapter 1

**The Conversation**

_This idea came to me and I had to get it out. I'm not terribly sentimental (although I admit to being something of a romantic), but I think the relationship between Callen and Hetty is complex and has only become more so with everything that's happened in their lives, especially Callen's. No parent - child relationship is perfect or without issues, and I just wanted to address some of those in this special relationship in a way that's not necessarily how other people see these two very complex characters. As always, comments are appreciated! This action takes place after "Till Death Do Us Part."  
_

It was almost 2:00 am and most of the wedding guests had left. Kensi and Deeks had gone up to bed almost an hour ago, and to be honest, Callen was surprised they had stayed as long as they had given everything that had happened before the ceremony had even taken place. They must be exhausted, but he was sure that wouldn't dampen their wedding night. Sam was getting ready to leave and came over to see if Callen was ready to go.

"You want a ride home, G?"

"No, thanks. I'm good."

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mr. Hanna," Hetty called from her seat on the nearby sofa, "no one needs to be in the office until noon tomorrow, so sleep in and get some rest. I think we can all use it."

"You don't need to tell me twice," Sam replied with a wide grin. He slapped Callen on the back and then stepped outside into the cool early morning air, got in his Challenger, and drove away.

"Mr. Callen," Hetty called, "would you be interested in joining me for some Pappy Van Winkles?"

Callen looked down at their diminutive leader, and his expression was cryptic, but his answer wasn't, "Not tonight, Hetty. It's been a long day."

"It has indeed. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I guess you will."

Hetty had been absent for months, only communicating him once and offering no information—even after he'd been seriously injured and Anna ended up in prison and his father remained missing—and then had shown up without warning or explanation, and now she wanted to catch up as though nothing had happened, nothing had changed. But things had happened and things had changed for Callen, and he wasn't sure where Hetty fit anymore. So, no, Callen wasn't in the mood to share Pappy Van Winkles.

He turned and walked away and Hetty called after him, "Good night, Mr. Callen."

"Good night, Hetty," he replied without stopping or turning to look back at her, and as she watched him leave, she sighed and realized that she had a great deal of fence mending to do—and that maybe she had broken down the fence once too often and the fence couldn't be mended this time.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Callen got home early that morning, he couldn't sleep. If he'd been twenty years younger, he probably would have punched a hole in the wall like he'd done at the shelter. But he was older now and had more self-control. If he hadn't developed that, he probably wouldn't be alive today.

He went to his frig and grabbed a beer. He didn't really need it or want it, but he wasn't ready to go to sleep. He opened the bottle, took a seat, and stared into space. Callen was angry. He was more angry than he had been in a long time, angry at himself and angry at Hetty—especially Hetty.

Thinking about all the lies she'd told him, all the times she'd kept secrets from him, all the times she'd disappeared without letting him know where she had gone wasn't calming him down. He got up and poured his beer down the drain.

Callen went back and sat down and sat in the darkness in silence. He was glad she had arrived in time for the wedding—Kensi and Deeks deserved to have her here and to have her officiate made the ceremony truly special for them, for everyone. But in the depths of his being, he felt an emotional pain that he had never felt, not when he learned of the deaths of his mother and his sister, and not when Nikita had been taken away. It was the pain of being irrelevant, abandoned, unimportant—discarded without a second thought like trash on the side of the road. No one looking at him or talking to him would ever imagine the negative emotions churning through his psyche. Callen had long ago mastered the art of disguising, subduing, his true emotions. It was one of the things that made him such an excellent undercover operator—the ability to completely obscure from others his emotions, what he felt. The only problem with this ability was that it sometimes led even his friends and associates to forget that he had feelings. Callen knew that he was overreacting, and he knew that Hetty cared for him like she did all her agents, but he had always thought their relationship special. But the way Hetty shut him out this time, had shut him out before—and the reasons didn't matter anymore—caused Callen to doubt that that was true. Maybe, after all these years, he just imagined it was true. And maybe the problem wasn't just him; maybe it was Hetty. Maybe Hetty didn't know _how_ to have a special relationship with anyone. He couldn't shut these feelings down. His doubts, his anger, his confusion made him question his relationship with Hetty and wonder if it would ever be the same. Maybe when he saw her tomorrow, his feelings would be gone and he would view everything in a more objective light. After all, Hetty always had a reason. In a way, Callen hoped the reason was good enough, but in a way, he also hoped it wasn't.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen entered the office the next day a little after 1:00 pm. Sam was already at his desk, but when he tried to engage Callen in some banter with a remark about being a sleepy head, Callen's look shut him down. Sam watched his partner for a moment and then went back to his paperwork. Callen took out his laptop, opened it up, and signed on. He didn't look at Sam or offer him an explanation. While he waited for his files to load, Hetty made her way to the bullpen. She had already greeted Sam when he came in earlier, so she crossed to Callen's desk. Sam sensed something was up and that Hetty and his partner needed some space, so he stood up and decided to go downstairs to the range.

Callen didn't look up when Hetty stopped at his desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Callen."

"Good morning, Hetty," he replied without taking his eyes from his keyboard as he continued to work.

She waited for a moment, but could see that he wasn't going to stop. "I wanted to talk to you this morning, Mr. Callen."

"I'm listening," he said abruptly and stopped typing but didn't look at her.

She moved closer to his desk. "I wanted to talk to you about my recent absence."

Now, he looked at her and his expression was neutral, "Unless your absence has something to do with a case, I really don't need to know—and I really don't care, Hetty." He looked at her for a few more moments before asking, "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," she said quietly, "that was all I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Callen." She took a deep breath before she continued, "But I do need you to go to the boatshed to meet with someone about a case."

Callen stood up and started out of the bullpen to go get Sam, but Hetty hadn't finished with her instructions. "You'll need to go alone as I have another assignment for Mr. Hanna since our other two team members won't be joining us today." She looked at Callen with a slight tilt of her head, "Do you think you can manage on your own, Mr. Callen?"

"I always have," he said matter-of-factly, but with an emphasis that belied his emotions, and walked down the tunnel and out of the building. Hetty sighed deeply and then walked back to her desk and fixed herself a strong cup of tea. She concealed her emotions even more than her senior agent, but like him, they existed. As she settled down, she realized that her absence had hurt Callen more than she had realized and definitely more than she had intended. Regaining his trust might be the most difficult assignment she had ever had.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Callen reached the boatshed, he pushed his anger down and got ready to go to work. He was actually glad to be working alone today. But when Callen saw who was waiting for him, his anger came back full blown.

"What the hell do you want, Nate?"

Nate stood up and smiled, "I want to talk to you, Callen."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

"That's sort of what I expected you to say, but it's really not an option."

"Are you the 'case' Hetty told me about?"

"No. You are." Callen glared at Nate, turned around, and started to walk out. "Callen," Nate said, "you _**need **_to talk." He paused. "And you need someone to listen."

Neither man moved for several minutes. Nate watched Callen's back and Callen looked straight ahead at the door. He could walk out that door. Nate wouldn't stop him. If he went back to OSP, Hetty wouldn't send him to Nate again. He could work this out on his own. He'd always worked things out on his own—and maybe that was one reason his life was so fucked up. Not the only reason, but one. And maybe he did need to talk. And maybe he needed someone to listen.

When Nate saw Callen's shoulders finally relax, he knew that he needed to get ready for one of the most important—and one of the most difficult—sessions he'd ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_First, thanks for the comments and remarks. This is an interesting story for me. I felt a need to write it because I'm not sure we'll ever get a scene where Callen "opens up," and I would love to see that. Second, I'm not a psychologist or a student of psychology, so this is probably NOT what a "real" session would look like, but I'm not trying to recreate a "real" session. Third, I think the Callen-Hetty relationship is very special, but I also think she's been very callous-unintentionally so-about the emotional pain he's been through and that she herself has caused. When I look at her lies and actions through the years-regardless of her reasons-I can't help but see him getting angry and fed up. Even this past season, she was still not telling him everything about Anna or his father, which caused him unnecessary anxiety and frustration and guilt. And finally, for me Callen and Nate have always had a special relationship, and I don't see what happened in "Head of the Snake" having an adverse affect on that. Callen knew Nate was on assignment and I think knew that whatever Nate did and said, it was to keep his cover intact. They've all done that, and Callen (imo) is professional enough to know that there was no intent by Nate to personally injure him, physically or emotionally. I understand that this isn't how everyone sees things nor is it the "only" way or the "right" way, but it's how I see Callen and his relationships.  
_

Callen turned around and walked back to the center of the room, and Nate sat down casually on the couch, leaned back, and crossed a leg over his knee.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Callen asked.

"Anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Callen hesitated and took a few steps toward a chair. "That's pretty non-specific."

"It is."

"You don't want me to talk about my childhood?"

"If you want to."

"I don't," Callen said firmly as he sat down.

"Okay." Nate's voice was quiet and calm and patient.

Callen was silent, staring at the floor, his fingers interlaced, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. It was almost three minutes before he spoke. "Did you know I speak more than ten languages, not including English?"

"I did know that. It's in your file." Nate waited a moment, but when Callen didn't continue, Nate did, "You're very good with languages."

"I guess I am."

"Do you like languages?"

"'Like' isn't the right word." Callen hesitated. "I use languages."

"For your work."

"Before work. When I was a kid." Nate said nothing, but watched and waited for Callen to continue. "I spoke Spanish before I was ten." Callen raised his head and looked at Nate, "Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"That's not in my file."

"No, it isn't."

Callen turned his eyes back to the floor, "Picked it up at school. From a kid named Javier."

"That's a useful language to know in Southern California."

"It is." Callen kept his eyes focused on the floor, but the outline of a smirk pulled at his mouth. "I learned all the swear words first."

Nate tried not to smile, but he couldn't maintain his composure entirely, so he tilted his head down in case Callen looked in his direction. There was an extended silence, and when Nate lifted his head, Callen's position hadn't changed: he was staring at the floor, his elbows on his knees, his fingers interlaced, and his chin on his hands.

"Did you learn the swear words of all the languages first?"

Callen took a minute before answering. "Only Spanish. That was Javier. He said those were the most important words." He paused. "Most of the other languages I learned on my own." Callen lifted his head and looked at Nate. "That about sums up my life."

Nate refused to take the bait. Instead, he let a few moments pass before he asked, "What happened to Javier?"

Callen stared ahead. "I don't know. I left that school after a few weeks."

Nate got up off the couch and walked casually over to the coffee maker that was almost empty. He poured the last dregs of coffee into his mug and put the empty pot back and then stood there while he drank it. It was cold and tasted awful, but his expression didn't change. "So, you left the school?" Callen nodded. Nate took another sip. "Did you want to leave?"

Callen looked at Nate and smirked. "Aren't you supposed to be writing this stuff down?"

Nate shook his head and shrugged, "We're just talking."

"Then," Callen said as he stood up, "I guess I can leave."

"Absolutely," Nate replied as he took another sip of coffee. Callen stood in front of the chair and watched Nate, but Nate gave no indication that he cared if Callen stayed or left. Callen started to leave and Nate watched him without a word. Callen got to the hallway leading to the door when he stopped. Nate walked back to the couch and sat down with his coffee in hand. Callen stood in the hallway for a moment more and then turned around.

"I didn't want to leave." Nate said nothing, giving Callen time to explain if he wanted to. Callen walked back into the room. He spoke slowly, with pauses in between each sentence, thinking, remembering. He didn't look at Nate. "Child Protective Services moved me. My teacher reported the abuse. But I wanted to stay." Callen looked at Nate quickly and then looked away, "Javier was the first friend I had here." After a few moments, Callen looked at Nate, "That coffee must have tasted like crap."

"It did," Nate admitted. He stood up. "I'm going to make a fresh pot. You want some?"

"Sure."

Nate picked up his mug, walked over to the counter. He started making a pot and casually continued the conversation. "So, how'd you learn the other languages?"

"Cassette tapes."

"Cassette tapes?" Nate asked as he waited by the coffeemaker and the fresh brewed coffee aroma filled the room.

"I 'borrowed' a cassette player and a pair of headphones from school. Also a few language tapes, at school and at the library." Callen paused. "I even returned some of them." When he continued, his voice carried some bitterness and a little pain, "I had lots of 'free' time."

Nate waited a moment before moving the conversation forward, "But that's not how you learned Russian." After he made the statement, Nate watched Callen closely.

Callen looked at Nate with a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowed. "You know that's not how I learned Russian."

"I know," Nate replied and turned as he heard the coffeemaker sputtering the last few drops of water as the process finished. He took his mug and poured himself a cup, and then grabbed a mug for Callen and poured him a cup. He walked over to Callen and handed him his mug and then went back to the couch and sat down. Nate took a sip and waited.

"Did you know they spoke Russian when you went to live with them?"

"No." Callen took a sip of coffee. "I didn't know they spoke Russian until a few weeks had passed."

"How did you find out?"

Callen's eyes focused on the past as his gaze rested on the kayaks in the room. "I walked past Alina's bedroom one night, and Mrs. Rostoff said to her, 'Сладкие Мечты,' 'sweet dreams.' It sounded like I'd heard it before."

"Maybe you had . . . heard it before."

"Probably." Callen took another sip and shrugged, "It sounded like a form of bastard Polish to me then."

There was another lengthy pause before Nate said, "So Alina taught you Russian."

"I asked her about it the next day." Callen smiled. "She was worried that I'd heard it, but I told her not to worry—in Polish."

"She was surprised?"

"She was surprised."

"So, the Rostoff's didn't know you spoke any foreign languages?"

"None of my foster families did."

There was another pause while both men drank their coffee. "It seems odd," Nate said with genuine curiosity, "that Child Protective Services wouldn't tell your foster families about your language skills."

Callen looked at Nate. "What makes you think anyone there knew?" he asked and then got up to pour himself another cup of coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Thanks for the comments. I find how people see this relationship really interesting. So, the conversation continues . . . hope you find it interesting.  
_

Callen stood by the coffee pot without speaking for some time, and Nate rose from the couch and came over to refresh his coffee. He stood next to Callen and without looking at him said, "But you didn't stay with the Rostoffs."

Callen took a sip and looked at Nate and took another sip. "No, I didn't."

"It's too bad that placement didn't work out."

Callen's laugh was bitter, "Didn't work out?" He took another sip while Nate waited. "Of course it didn't 'work out.' That's because it was a good fit."

Nate walked back to the couch and sat down. "So, the Rostoffs didn't ask you to be moved?"

"No, the Rostoffs didn't ask me to be moved. The Rostoffs didn't want me to be moved," Callen said as he walked around the room and stopped near a pillar. "They moved me because Mr. Rostoff got a DUI, one DUI—and he wasn't even drunk."

"I don't understand."

Callen walked over to the chair and sat down. He sounded exasperated as he recounted what happened, "He was home, sick, so he took some medication. Then he got a call and had to go pick up Mrs. Rostoff because her car got a flat. He took Alina with him. He had to." He stopped and continued and his tone reflected the guilt he still felt, "If I hadn't been in school, he wouldn't have taken her."

Moments passed and then Nate picked up the narrative. "And he was stopped by the police and given a breathalyzer test that came back positive because of his medication."

"They almost took Alina away from them, but CPS was willing to 'give them a second chance.'" Callen's voice dripped with sarcasm and anger. "A second chance. But they wouldn't give me a second chance. They moved me the next day to a group home." He finished his coffee in one gulp.

Nate knew he needed to maintain some control over the session if he was going to help Callen come to terms with the intense, conflicting emotions and feelings that threatened to overwhelm him and cause him to shut down emotionally and shut himself off from others even more than he already did. No mentally healthy person could simply bury their emotions for 30+ years and not suffer repercussions from that "burial" that affected their mental and physical health. But to help Callen confront his feelings—and realize that his feelings were not signs of personal weakness or disloyalty to Hetty—he needed Callen to continue.

"And things didn't go very well after that."

"That's one way of putting it," Callen said with his signature smirk. "I suppose that's in my file?"

"Some of it: you ran away from your next foster family and then ran away again and then . . ."

"And then I met Hetty."

Nate smiled. "Meeting Hetty changes everyone's life."

"It does," Callen agreed.

"I don't know what I would have thought of her if I'd met her when I was a teenager."

"I thought she was short," Callen said without emotion.

"Well, that, of course. But I think talking to her, I would have felt intimidated."

"We didn't talk that much."

Nate sensed that Callen was starting to shut down, so he changed the direction of the conversation.

"I have a question about your birthdate."

Callen eyed Nate and the smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "Go ahead."

"I might have been able to remember the month of my birthday, but I don't think I'd have been able to remember the day of my birthday when I was only 5 years old." Callen waited for Nate to continue. "Well, when you came to the U.S., you didn't bring a passport or a birth certificate with you, did you?"

"I didn't."

"But you were able to remember that March 11 was your birthday."

"Not exactly." Nate looked genuinely confused, so Callen offered an explanation. "I didn't know my actual birthdate although I knew the year and the month. Hetty asked me to come up with a date not long after I moved in with her."

"Hetty had you make up a birthdate?"

"She asked me to pick a day."

"Okay. So, why March 11? Did you just pull it out of a hat?"

"I never pull anything out of a hat," Callen replied with absolute seriousness.

"Okay, so why March 11?"

"Have you read _Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy_?"

"I have. It's a great book."

"I read it when I was 13 and read it at least once every year until I was 20. March 11 is the birthday of Douglas Adams." Nate smiled and Callen continued. "After that, I got an 'official' birth certificate. Everything except the G., my last name and country of birth was fake." Callen stopped and looked at the floor and then at Nate. "My mother's name was fake. Even though Hetty knew who she was, she made up a name."

There was a marked break in the conversation as Nate watched Callen's expression.

"Hetty's reasons for doing what she does aren't always clear to those around her."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Yep, that's kind of obvious," Nate replied with a quiet laugh. "But I do have a question for you."

"Another one?"

"One that I've been wanting to ask you for years."

"One you've been wanting to ask me for years?"

"Yes," Nate replied with restrained eagerness.

Do I have to answer it?"

"No, but I'm hoping you will."

There was silence that dragged on until Callen raised his eyebrows and asked, "Are you going to ask it, or do you want me to guess?"

Nate shifted slightly in his chair and looked at Callen with undisguised curiosity. "What was it like to live with Hetty?"

Callen folded his arms and leaned back. Nate waited. "It was interesting, but not something I'd want to do again." That was definitely not the answer Nate had expected, and it showed in his face. Callen looked over and noticed Nate's expression. "You were expecting me to say it was one of the best experiences I'd ever had, weren't you?"

"I don't think I was expecting that exactly," Nate responded somewhat defensively and unconvincingly.

"I was a kid," Callen continued. "I'd been taken from the one family I'd ever felt really comfortable with and put with a family that was . . . less than ideal, so I ran away. And I stole things to get away, so I got sent to juvee. And then I got sent to another family that didn't . . . work out, so I escaped again. And I stole a car, was arrested, and I would have gone back to juvee—or maybe jail—if not for Hetty."

"I didn't know that," Nate said quietly and then clarified, "about being sent to juvee or the stealing or the arrest."

"You wouldn't. Hetty wiped it from my record." He cocked his head. "She does that a lot, I discovered—wipes things that might cause problems later on." He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands. "You're thinking I should have been grateful to her, aren't you?" Callen asked.

Nate nodded in the affirmative, "Maybe just a little."

Callen shook his head. "To me, she was just one more adult—a much shorter adult with a lot of authority since she could tell the police what to do—but she was still an adult, and in my life, adults were my enemy."

Nate realized he had never really thought about the conditions under which Callen had come to live with Hetty. They were anything but normal—Callen's life had been anything but normal—and he had brought a lot of baggage with him when he moved in with her. She had taken on an enormous task when she took him in, and Hetty and Nate and Callen all knew why. It was because of Clara. Now, Nate had been asked if he could help restore Callen's trust in Hetty that Hetty's actions—and inaction—over the years had gradually chipped away.


End file.
